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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413593">today, it's gonna be a better one</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/filiabelialis/pseuds/filiabelialis'>filiabelialis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Planeshift Fictional TV Series Campaign</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Barfight, Gen, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, non-graphic descriptions of wounds and traumatic injuries, the American medical establishment is shit and heavily informs this story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:34:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413593</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/filiabelialis/pseuds/filiabelialis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A month later, Tsadok’s walking out of a biker bar restroom at the scene of a fight, staunching what looks to be a pretty bloody cut on one brow. Elliwick knows she should be incredulous (and she is, on some level, because this is <i>so</i> absurd), but mostly she’s just relieved to see him alive and well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dyr/Tsadok (Planeshift), Elliwick &amp; Tsadok, past Aja/Zeth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Planeshift Fanworks Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>today, it's gonna be a better one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/gifts">Scribe</a>.</li>



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe">Scribe</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PlaneshiftFanworksExchange2020">PlaneshiftFanworksExchange2020</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>AU where Elliwick is an EMT and has to keep rescuing Tsadok from stupid shit he does and they become friends! Dyr/Tsadok welcome.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good morning dispatch, this is A69, six-nine, on duty.” </p><p>“Nice. Good morning, A69,” crackles the radio, which is how Elliwick knows it’s Warret. </p><p>It pays to know who the dispatchers are, and to learn their quirks. Some dispatchers are better than others. Provided you’re basically polite, some will get you back to the garage with enough time to wash down the truck and restock by the end of your shift (or, if you radio them near the end of shift asking if they have any calls for you, will get you that sweet sweet overtime); some, on the other hand, will take your tiredness or your crankiness or just being hurried or new as a chance to screw you over, sending you out on a long call twenty minutes before shift ends. </p><p>And then there’s Warret. </p><p>Warret has a twisted sense of humor--and in EMS, Elliwick feels, that’s really saying something. Warret bends the rules about efficient deployment of resources <i>just</i> enough to keep himself entertained without getting himself in trouble, is Elliwick’s theory. She doesn’t really buy into the more widespread superstitions around his weird prescience for who to send on what call. Yes, she will accept that people dispatched by Warret end up on their Story calls--the really weird ones, or dark ones, or exciting ones, the career cementers or career enders--but that tracks, statistically speaking, if he’s bending the rules about where people get sent. Draw out the response time or distance travelled just a little and anticipation gets heightened, things on scene get a chance to get more interesting. </p><p>Still, best to be polite. “Oh hey, Warret. How’s the day shift treating you?” </p><p>“Oh, you know,” says Warret, dramatically beleaguered. “Patient transport.” </p><p>Oh boy. He’s bored out of his mind. Time to tread carefully. “Haha, I hear you,” says Elliwick, trying for noncommittal. </p><p>The pause before the radio crackles back to life is a hair too long. “I’m so glad you understand!” Warret gushes. “Post over at Allenhroft Avenue, please.” </p><p>Elliwick glances across the cab over at Aja, who is reflecting her trepidation back to her. Allenhroft Avenue sounds like a suspiciously normal posting. “A69, heading to post at Allenhroft Avenue,” says Elliwick. “Thank you.” </p><p>“Have a great one, A69,” chimes Warret, fae as ever. The posting pings onto the tablet, and Elliwick hits the en route button reflexively. </p><p>“Weirdo,” mutters Elliwick. </p><p>“Where’s the other shoe?” Aja agrees. </p><p>*** </p><p>Allenhroft Avenue turns out to be home to a climbing gym, and the other shoe turns out to be a seriously big dude who fell twenty feet off a wall. </p><p>He seems totally oriented, and is surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing, given how bad it could be. He’s already sat up and is insisting that he doesn’t need an ambulance, if they just phone his girlfriend she can pick him up and take him to the ER-- </p><p>“We aren’t going to force you to come with us,” Elliwick says, because that’s a helpful thing to lead with, sometimes. “But we’d like to check you over, if that’s ok. You fell twenty feet, that’s not nothing.” </p><p>“Sure, that’s cool. I think my ankle’s broken.” </p><p>“It sure is,” says Aja, taking a quick glance before moving to face him. “Could you hold your head still while I check it for injuries? I’m Aja, by the way, and this is Elliwick. What’s your name, sir?” </p><p>“Tsadok,” he says, looking obediently straight ahead. “It’s Wednesday, and I’m at Kuprik Climbing Gym, and I lost my grip on the free climb wall.” </p><p>Elliwick, already kneeling over the ankle to take a closer look, breaks into a grin without meaning to. “How often do you get checked for head injuries, Tsadok?” She has never had a patient demonstrate orientation to self, time, place, and situation not only unprompted, but in standard protocol order. </p><p>He grins back at her, moving his eyes to look while Aja probes gently at his skull and cervical spine. “Eh, I have an active lifestyle.” </p><p>Aja’s breaking out the penlight, meanwhile. “Did you hit your head this time?” Elliwick continues. </p><p>“Nope.” </p><p>“Does your neck hurt?” </p><p>“Nope, ankle took the brunt of it, then I rolled backward.” </p><p>Elliwick shifts the sweatpant leg gently upward. “We’ll get this splinted soon. Do you feel pain or numbness anywhere else?” </p><p>After a bit more back and forth, poking and prodding, it seems like the ankle is the worst of it. Aja says she can’t feel a pedal pulse, though, which argues for getting him to the hospital sooner and having the girlfriend meet him there rather than waiting for the girlfriend to drive over. Tsadok agrees to that, refuses the cervical collar, and insists that he can get himself onto the stretcher once they lower it to the floor.</p><p>“No reason for you guys to struggle with my dead weight,” Tsadok jokes. “I’m like three of you.”</p><p>“I have backboarded larger men than you,” Elliwick retorts immediately. She doesn’t mind her height, but she wished fewer people thought it was cute to joke about. </p><p>“You are not to be fucked with, duly noted,” Tsadok laughs. </p><p>Elliwick softens a little. “Good,” she says with fake haughtiness. “Glad we understand each other.” She helps him scoot onto the stretcher while Aja gets the frac pack, and then asks the crowd to disperse. If Aja wants to reduce the fracture before splinting, Tsadok might want a bit more privacy; plenty of big tough guys get a lot less tough for this. “She’s going to try to pull the bone back into place before she wraps you up,” explains Elliwick. “Which is gonna hurt. Do you want to hold onto my hand?” </p><p>He looks at her, clearly unsure if she’s making fun of him. </p><p>“I’m serious,” Elliwick says, “this part sucks, you’re welcome to hold my hand if it helps.” </p><p>“Yeah, ok,” Tsadok says after a second. “Thanks.” </p><p>He does, and nearly breaks Elliwick’s fingers when Aja shifts the bone into place, but doesn’t make more than a small sound in his throat. Impressive. </p><p>“Still with me?” asks Elliwick. He’s looking a little pale. “Do you need to throw up?” </p><p>“Mm. Nah. Nope, I’m good.” <i>Super convincing</i>, thinks Elliwick. She makes the drive to the Sol Center a fast one. </p><p>All in all, a pretty normal call, and not one that Elliwick would ordinarily remember--if that had been the end of it. </p><p>***</p><p>Fucking Dusk. Why does she keep ending up on shifts with fucking Dusk? </p><p>Elliwick isn’t sure <i>anyone</i> likes working with Dusk. He’s been doing this a couple years, so he’s competent, but he’s totally burnt out. He does the bare minimum, with patients and with his partners. Elliwick always feels like she needs to be the one to inventory the truck before they head out, thanks to a memorable shift where she discovered that the portable oxygen tank was nearly empty and Dusk hadn’t noticed, because he filled out the checklist without really looking. He always takes off at the end of the day with nary a backward glance, leaving her feebly straining to scrub the upper parts of the truck until some other crew takes pity on her and steps in with that familiar refrain, <i>fucking Dusk, huh?</i> What an asshole. </p><p>Their first call is to some kind of mixed martial arts gym, for a twenty-six year old male experiencing chest pain. Elliwick is busy listening to the guy’s chest and taking in some quick impressions about pulse and breathing, which means Dusk is asking the SAMPLE questions. Elliwick wishes he’d make any kind of effort to sound like he isn’t bored. </p><p>“Am I having a heart attack?” the guy, whose name is Lyon, asks breathlessly. </p><p>“Do you feel the pain anywhere besides your chest?” asks Dusk, which isn’t completely ignoring the question, but is completely ignoring Lyon’s growing fear. Elliwick wants to strangle him. </p><p>“They’re trying to figure it out now, Lyon,” says a calm, deep voice somewhere above Elliwick’s head. Elliwick glances up from tucking away her stethoscope to see none other than climbing gym guy--Tsadok--gingerly working into a kneeling position on Lyon’s other side. He’s got an orthopedic boot on his right foot, which is making it a touchy process. Still, he smiles like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and nods at Elliwick. </p><p>“I met her before, at the climbing gym. She’s great, you’re in good hands.” He’s got a hand on Lyon’s shoulder, and he’s keeping his voice low and even. “Let’s just get through the questions, so they know how to take care of you.” </p><p>He stays there for the rest of the rapid exam, and probably would have helped get Lyon on the stretcher if Dusk hadn’t shooed him out of the way. “Just put me where you need me, bro,” he answers amiably. </p><p>“You his friend?” asks Elliwick, adjusting the stretcher straps. </p><p>“Yeah, I teach the class,” answers Tsadok. </p><p>Of course he does. Of course this brick shithouse of a man teaches MMA. “Do you wanna ride to the hospital with him?” says Elliwick, ignoring Dusk’s venomous glare. Fuck him, like Dusk is even remotely the one keeping this situation under control. </p><p>“Yeah,” says Tsadok, and gives Lyon’s arm a quick, reassuring squeeze before they bundle the stretcher into the truck. “Never rode in the front of an ambulance before.” </p><p>What had promised to be a tense ride with a scared patient and a fuming Elliwick instead turns into Ellwick trying not to crack up while Tsadok occasionally yells encouragement and jokes through the window back to Lyon and Dusk checks on him in an increasingly pissy voice. It’s the highlight of Elliwick’s day, she decides, or maybe her entire EMS career. </p><p>***</p><p>Not even three weeks later, she’s peeling Tsadok off the pavement after a motor vehicle accident. </p><p>He’s not dead, which is miraculous, because he wasn’t even in a car. He was on a motorcycle, for fuck’s sake, and apparently only escaped the worst of the road rash because he went up onto the hood of the car in the initial impact. </p><p>“This is some bullshit,” he says woozily as she velcroes the collar on. “I just got that fucking boot off.” </p><p>It is, indeed, some bullshit, she thinks, but mostly because three <i>completely unrelated encounters</i> with the same dude in a month and a half? Really? It means she’s looking back at that morning of their first meeting in a way that feels more superstitious than she’s comfortable with. Goddammit, Warret. </p><p>“If you give me a sec, I can probably get myself on the stretcher,” he continues. </p><p>“You absolutely will not. What the fuck. I’m gonna tell the ER nurse your judgement is impaired.” </p><p>He cedes the argument, which tells Elliwick how bad he must be feeling. “I guess you get to show off your backboarding skills after all.” </p><p>She does. He’s getting wheeled through the ER doors fifteen minutes later, and Elliwick thinks this is the last she’ll ever see of him, whether or not he makes it. It’s an unexpectedly discomfiting part of her job, taking people to the ER knowing she’ll likely never know for certain if they ended up ok. She and Aja have talked about it, and it’s one of the reasons Aja’s trying for a nursing degree. Nurses have the chance to get to know patients. </p><p>Aja suggests grabbing some Chipotle after shift, her treat, because she’s gonna be a stellar nurse who knows when and how to get people to air their feelings. Elliwick declines. Her story with Tsadok, such as it is, isn’t going to get a denouement, and she doesn’t really want to pretend it will. </p><p>*** </p><p>A month later, Tsadok’s walking out of a biker bar restroom at the scene of a fight, staunching what looks to be a pretty bloody cut on one brow. Elliwick knows she should be incredulous (and she is, on some level, because this is <i>so</i> absurd), but mostly she’s just relieved to see him alive and well.</p><p>The cops on scene immediately get up in Tsadok’s space to ask questions. Elliwick is trying to figure out how to intervene while also getting the answers she needs about what happened to their patient (barely conscious on the floor with a contusion on his left temple), when the heavily tattooed bartender comes around from behind the bar and gets between Tsadok and the cops. She tells them loudly that he wasn’t involved, and that the guy who did that left before the cops arrived. </p><p>Elliwick does a double take, because though she looks very different from the last time Elliwick saw her, the bartender is definitely <i>Zeth</i>. </p><p>Because tonight wasn’t weird enough. </p><p>She glances back at Aja, who is concentrating fully and deliberately on examining the man on the floor. <i>She’s dealing with that later, so can you</i> Ellwick tells herself. </p><p>Elliwick steps forward, addressing Zeth. “You saw what happened to him?” </p><p>The story Zeth gives is that the patient was a few drinks in when he started the fight, during which a bottle went flying and hit Tsadok, a total bystander, who retreated to the bathroom to stop the blood streaming down his face, after which the fight ended with the assailant knocking the patient out and leaving. If Zeth is still the Zeth Elliwick remembers, this is almost certainly bullshit, but Ellwick doesn’t want to see Tsadok in handcuffs any more than Zeth does, apparently, so instead she takes the earliest opportunity to get Tsadok off to the side nearer to Aja, where she can check on his cut. </p><p>“Needs stitches,” she comments, grabbing a gauze pack from the kit. “You feeling dizzy at all?” </p><p>“Nah. Is that guy gonna be ok?” </p><p>“He’s stable, but I want to get him to the hospital ASAP,” says Aja, directing the comment at Elliwick--not to be rude, just because HIPAA and plausible deniability. </p><p>Elliwick motions him to follow her while she gets the backboard in position. “You’re...worried about him?” asks Elliwick. It’s none of her business, actually, but--- </p><p>Well, okay, maybe she’s invested now in what kind of a person Tsadok is, and why he might hospitalize a man in a barfight. </p><p>Tsadok doesn’t look around at the cops, but he does lower his voice. “He started the fight, and was going after me with a broken bottle, and I just--I just wanted to finish it as fast as I could. I think I might have hit him too hard.” </p><p>Elliwick has never had someone try to stab her with a broken bottle, but she can imagine the kind of fight-or-flight response that could evoke. She believes him, despite having seen the man all of four times in his life. In which he made quite the impression, but still. </p><p>She does glance at the cops--thumbs tucked in belts, relaxed stances, taken in by whatever Zeth is telling them--before saying, low, “It would have been safer if you’d just left, like she says you did.” </p><p>He looks sheepish. “I know, I just...really didn’t want that weighing on me.” </p><p>Jesus, this guy. They’ve got the patient strapped in and in the truck, though, so that’s the end of it, because Tsadok insists he can get himself to urgent care. What a weird night. Elliwick hopes Aja needs to process about Zeth over some IHOP pancakes after shift, because Elliwick either needs someone to talk to herself or needs to be distracted with other people’s problems. </p><p>***</p><p>But because the universe, or Warret, or whatever power is driving this clusterfucking bus decides that she hasn’t had enough yet, it turns out the weirdest Tsadok call was yet to come. </p><p>Elliwick isn’t even sure why she and Aja are being directed to this scene. It’s an <i>amputation</i> on a <i>hiking trail</i>, which should really be a job for a paramedic or a wilderness EMT or <i>someone more qualified than her</i>, but they must have been closest. Fuck. There is no part of her that feels ready to deal with this, but now she has to, because she was in the right place at the wrong time and somehow the fact of neither her or her partner being the best person for this has fallen through the cracks created by stretched resources and scheduling difficulties. The kind of chaos intrinsic to EMS is never the exciting, procedural TV kind of chaos. </p><p>They drive in as far as the asphalt access road will allow them, lights flashing, then disembark to schlep a full jump kit and scoop stretcher down a dirt trail for the last couple hundred feet. She can see two people ahead, a man and a woman, both looking toward her as if expecting their arrival-- </p><p>What’s wrong with the situation hits her abruptly. They’re both standing up. Someone has supposedly lost an arm, but no one is on the ground. Are they at the wrong place? Aja is taking directions from dispatch over the portable radio, and pressing forward toward the couple like it’s the right direction. Do they need to go further along the trail? </p><p>“Oh hey, you’re here--oh, it’s you guys!” </p><p>Tsadok. Is standing about fifty feet in front of her. Waving and smiling. He’s talking, too, apologizing for something, but Elliwick’s brain is still trying to come back online. </p><p>She gives up on that part of the world making sense. She turns to look at the woman next to Tsadok, trying to take in information that is relatively not-bonkers. </p><p>The woman is missing her right arm. She smiles at Elliwick, and gives a slightly sheepish, “Hi.” </p><p>Aja’s voice cuts through the mental fog. “And through that whole call, you didn’t once think to say the word ‘prosthetic.’” </p><p>Elliwick finally comes back online. There’s no blood on either of them--besides looking a bit dusty and disheveled, they appear totally unscathed. </p><p>Tsadok is talking again. “Yeah. Ok, I’ll be honest with you. I know this is an inconvenience, and I’m really sorry about that. But most insurance policies only cover new prostheses--what was it?” </p><p>“Every three to five years,” says the woman next to him. “And if you lose them or break them between times, you’re paying eighty or ninety thousand out of pocket. Sorry, that’s the only reason we called at all, and we tried to get them to send the fire department instead.” </p><p>“Which they probably would have done,” says Aja, understanding but very tired, “if you’d mentioned that it was a prosthetic.” </p><p>“Maybe,” says Tsadok, smiling a little wryly. “But I was under the impression that EMS gets dispatched for health emergencies, not financial ones.” </p><p>Holy shit. Elliwick barely suppresses a full on cackle. She has to respect that, honestly. “Ok, ok,” she says. “So what do you need us for?” She’s just gonna...work with what she can, here. This is too much. This is hilarious. How is this her life. </p><p>They take her and Aja to a spot a little off the trail. The arm is down a ravine--Elliwick can easily look down and see it. It’s just that neither Tsadok or his girlfriend, Dyr, are physically able to climb down to it--Dyr’s down a limb and Tsadok’s ankle still gives out on ground that isn’t level, and it’s better if the only casualty of this mess is a metal arm. When asked how it got so far off the trail, or unfastened from Dyr at all, the couple both get visibly flustered and evasive. They both have leaves in their hair, Elliwick notices again. There is absolutely no way this situation could get funnier. She might be a little punchy from relief that she doesn’t have to manage an amputation in the middle of the fucking woods with no paramedic.</p><p>“I think I could get it,” Elliwick says, peering into the ravine again. All three look at her incredulously. </p><p>“Fire and ALS are probably already incoming. We could wait,” says Aja. </p><p>“We should call off ALS,” says Elliwick, scoping the route down. “Or at least give dispatch an update.” </p><p>“If this is gonna get you hurt, please don’t do it,” says Dyr. </p><p>“Eh. If I break my arm, it’s insured,” says Ellwick, and starts picking her way downward. </p><p>There’s a brief awkward silence above, before Aja excuses herself to make calls to dispatch and Tsadok and Dyr start talking inaudibly. The awkward silence descends again when Aja returns. Tsadok thankfully breaks it by starting small talk about Aja and Elliwick’s job. Turns out Dyr and Aja have a nursing passion in common: Dyr is working toward a physical therapy degree--“for obvious reasons,” she jokes in a way that sounds like she’s practiced being graceful in the face of people calling her “brave”--and can sympathize with the rigors of Aja taking classes for a BSN while working. (“That’s craziness. Does this at least count toward clinical hours for your program, or--” It doesn’t. Aja gets this constantly and has to date not even snapped at anyone for it.) It’s not a difficult climb down, or back up, for Elliwick, especially with the conversation above her to focus on. Just a tricky ten minutes, especially with a hefty piece of polymer and metal in tow. </p><p>Dyr seems genuinely moved, though. “I...god, thank you. I really can’t tell you how much it means that you did that.” </p><p>Elliwick tries to imagine going through your life with two arms and then having to cope with one for the next several years because a couple of underpaid and chronically exhausted healthcare workers looked into a muddy, slightly perilous ditch and went “actually, no.” It’s too much to sort in a couple seconds. </p><p>“Of course,” is what she settles on. </p><p>“Hey,” says Tsadok, “I feel like I--we have to stop meeting like this. Would it be weird if we invited you guys to dinner?” </p><p>Aja and Elliwick look at each other. Aja, thankfully, is willing to step in on difficult social or emotional situations when Elliwick is pooped. “I wish, but we shouldn’t. It’s really frowned upon to form relationships with patients. If it were in any other context…” </p><p>“No, no, it’s good! I totally get it,” says Tsadok. He’s holding Dyr’s arm steady while she secures it on, like it’s a way they work together all the time. It just seems so nice. They seem so nice. </p><p>But Aja and Elliwick don’t get to know how the patients they transport are doing, in the end--unless those patients decide to press charges in some way, either against caregivers or against potential assailants on scene. And that bar fight was what, ten days ago? That might be too soon to know if their former patient remembers who hit him. Too soon to know if they might be asked to weigh in, and how. </p><p>“I think it was the right move,” confirms Aja, as they’re driving away. “It’s probably overreacting. I really doubt anyone would care, but it made me antsy too.” </p><p>“Thanks,” says Elliwick, swigging water. She’s so glad they’re going back to HQ; she’s filthy. She wants to go home and shower, ideally, but she might accept Aja just aiming the truck hose at her. </p><p>Still, professional ethics, why. Tsadok seems like exactly the kind of weirdo Elliwick would love to be friends with. In <i>any</i> other context. </p><p>“WAIT,” Ellwick yells. Aja stomps the brake so hard the ambulance nearly fishtails. </p><p>***</p><p>“The first three lessons are free, right?” asks Ellwick, because maybe she’ll hate MMA. She doesn’t know. She slides the paper across the counter. “Anyway, here’s my contact info, and stuff.” </p><p>“Yeah,” says Tsadok, grinning fit to split his face, “the first three lessons are free, and after that it’s a hundred per month, as many lessons as you want, sliding scale pay negotiable.” He bites his lip long enough to get the form in a manilla folder, and then starts chuckling. </p><p>“Stop acting like this is a mob deal,” he says, in response to Elliwick’s raised eyebrows. “Let’s just go get burgers over at Elliot’s Diner after class.” </p><p>Elliwick doesn’t hate MMA, even if she feels a little stupid doing it. Tsadok’s philosophy of teaching seems to be centered around looking insanely impressive, then encouraging the students until they believe they have the potential to be just as impressive, given time and practice. Maybe it says more about Elliwick’s biases than Tsadok’s teaching, but there’s one hundred percent less macho bullshit than Elliwick expected. </p><p>Then again, it’s probably down to Tsadok himself; sitting across from him at Elliot’s talking about the Netflix shows they watch feels natural, and really calming. He’s defending his chosen milkshake flavor by saying “vanilla is underrated” and Ellwick just barely restrains herself from saying to him “you fucked in the woods,” because friends don’t hold that against each other, when she realizes: she <i>does</i> think of him as a friend. Despite the weirdness of the circumstances, they built a friendship. </p><p>Maybe Elliwick will bring Warret a coffee at the end of her next shift, if he’s at base. Not that she believes he was behind any of this--the man just capitalizes on weird coincidences for his own reputation. </p><p>Still. It pays to be polite to the dispatchers.</p>
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